Enlighten Me
by Soldead
Summary: Ch.1: Rain-checks are not accepted. However, continual plaguing with bad weather until consent is perfectly acceptable. A series of one-shots.


**Written for the 64 damn Prompts on LJ.**

**Title:** Enlighten Me

**Author:** Soldead

**Words: **755(minus author's notes at bottom)

**Characters:** Crowley, Aziraphale

**Disclaimer:** Seeing as I can NOT be two completely separate people at the same time(not to mention that both me as GENIUSES(or is it genii?)), I cannot possibly be capable of creating Good Omens. Schizophrenia does not count, Bibi.

**Prompt:** Degrees

"Why does it have to be so damn _hot?" _Crowley muttered, annoyed. His hair was mussed, his black jacket thrown haphazardly over the side of the couch, tie undone, and the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone in a futile attempt to escape the heat. The ex-serpent had thrown himself upon the couch the second he had entire the bookshop, and now vaguely resembled a melted wax figure, the manner in which he was draped across the couch, and his sunglasses had been thrown off earlier as if they were burning him, showing his golden cat-like eyes. Crowley reached over Aziraphale's couch and snatched up one of the many books, and flipped back and forth through it, just to create a small breeze.

"You should be grateful Crowley; at least the rain has stopped." Aziraphale said, carrying a rather impressive stack of books over to the counter. (1) His demonic counterpart looked at him disbelievingly. "Yes, and that makes it worse because now it's bloody _humid _outside!" Crowley flipped the pages faster, partly from annoyance, and from the need of just wanting some _air_. The both of them could have just as easily tuned out the heat, and not feel anything at all using their metaphysical powers, but six thousand years on this wondrous planet, the had a sort of fond pleasure of just about anything about it.(2)

"My dear boy, stop that. You'll bend the spine." The blonde whined.

"Who cares, the pages will just crinkle up anyway, in this bloody weather." The demon said matter-of-fact. Behind the counter, Aziraphale twitched. Then he chuckled lightly. "Crowley, these are _my_ books. I'm not going to let that happen." But now he had a small worry that his precious books _would_ be ruined, so of course he was scared now (3), but he wasn't going to show Crowley see.

Unfortunately Anthony J. Crowley always knows when someone takes the bait. And he always loves playing up on it.

"_Yes,"_ the serpent drawled out, "but just because you don't want it to happen, doesn't mean that it won't _not_ happen." Weird, that had sounded better in his head. Huh.(4)

"Double negatives, my dear," came the quiet response, but they held none of the conviction they might have normally had.

"….You know what this means right?" the dark-haired man(shaped entity) turned his head at an angle impossible for a human to look at the angel, who squirmed under the intensity of those _eyes…!_

"…Wha?" came Aziraphale's eloquent response.

"Exactly, angel, you don't. So I'm just going to have to show you." Eyes like a cat's saw the Principality's lips part, and cut in before Aziraphale could turn him down. "And you still owe me for that bit with the oysters in Miami."

Aziraphale cringed at the memory, and Crowley felt guilty for bringing it up, but being a demon he quashed the feeling.

There was a silence thick enough that you would've had to get a chainsaw to cut it.

"Well, I _suppose—_"

"Great, pick you up tomorrow at nine!" Crowley vaulted off the couch with much more energy than he had shown previously, grabbed his jacket and burst outside with an enthusiastic "_See ya, angel!"_

The angel Aziraphale sighed as outside tires screeched as a vintage car pulled away, and briefly wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

Then he just prayed that nothing would blow up this time.

*

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1: Or, rather, a human would be impressed by this, seeing as Aziraphale's physical appearance looked rather delicate. Crowley, however, knew the angel for more than six thousand years, and would be able to tell you that Aziraphale could viciously murder you in several hundred ways, none of which were very angelic, and only be worried about the stains on his brand new shirt.

2: Like masochists.

3: It was like telling someone on a tightrope _not to worry, just don't look down _or asking someone who is pretty confident _are you sure?_

4: Doesn't it just annoy you when that happens? Makes you want to tear out your hair and use it to floss between someone's ears. Ew…

Okay, had to get Aziraphale in there somehow. You threaten the books, and the angel bends to your will like bamboo in the wind. :D This has been slightly edited so I can stop being paranoid.

Click on the button to review and Azira makes you hot cocoa.


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